Lie Low
by FromTheClouds
Summary: The world wasn't going to change as she hoped it would. Even to live is an act of courage. A college student stumbles across Rick's group after surviving for months on her own. She learns you're not always better off alone. Daryl/OC
1. Three Months In

**I had an idea and I'm going with it. Are Daryl and OC going to get together? Perhaps, maybe, maybe not. I just want to see where it goes and if it takes off. Also, I'm a die-hard Caryl shipper so that could be a possibility to. Regardless, there will be much interaction between the protagonist and Daryl. **

**I understand this chapter has a lot of background, bear with me please! It will pick up next chapter.**

**Disclaimer. I do not own any of TWD characters.**

*****I'm trying to figure out a good time frame for this. I don't know exactly how long the outbreak has been going on between season 1-4, but I'm assuming it's somewhere between 1-1.5 years give or take a month or two.. Anyways, it's supposed to take place beginning of season four (to give you a good time frame) Although she's been 3 months on her own, just assume that at any time before this, she was with her group.*****

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I hit the ground running. Without so much as a glance over my shoulder, I was off. The small herd of about 20 corpses growled behind me and picked up their pace, dragging themselves over the forest floor. I outran them easily. Since the beginning of the epidemic, I heard been learning when to pick my battles. Carrying only a knife and a handgun with limited ammunition, the herd was a battle I would pass on.

After about three months on my own, I hadn't exactly figured anything besides the premonition of fight or flight. I was only an endless journey, only stopping to rest for a few days at a time, sleeping on the branches of sturdy trees, and raiding long-overrun camps. At this point, I had no idea why I was trying to survive, but my only other option was being eaten alive, and I didn't think that was too hot of an idea.

It was mid-September. I was somewhere in Georgia, but I had no idea where. Before me and my group got separated, we had crossed the border from South Carolina, and were trying to move down south as far as we could go. I didn't remember why, I was only following the leader.

When the epidemic hit, I was in the middle of med school. In the middle of writing a paper based on a scientific theory for my professor, I had heard about it and scoffed. If the world ended now, it would be great. I wouldn't have to finish this. Since then, I'd regretted my sarcastic thought everyday. I was planning on specializing in brain surgery, but obviously my plans fell through.

The sickness made it's way to my university pretty quickly. My parents who lived in Boston wanted me to fly home, but the airlines shut down. Shortly after, I couldn't even contact them by cellphone. The few students that managed to get out alive banded together and survived the best we could.

After running out of eyesight from the corpses, I took of my jacket and black beanie, folding both neatly, and placed them in my backpack. The air was always cool in the morning, but after that brisk run, my cheeks were flushed and the articles were too warm for my liking.

I walked quietly among the dead leaves and sticks, trying to tread lightly. I remembered hunting with my brother and father as a young girl once, them hushing each other and my as they tiptoed through the forest. Well, they did the hunting, I just followed along, too innocent to kill and too young to hold a gun. Observation was more my forte. My mother had chewed out my father for letting me tag along, but in today's world knowing how to hunt is detrimental to survival. I'd been living off wildberries and canned food for so long I would kill (pun intended) for some duck, squirrel, or anything out of the norm.

I'd learned a good deal about survival from my time spent with 25 college students who had everything handed to them on a silver platter from the moment they were born, me being no exception. Our weakness was our lack of knowing what to do in life threatening situations. Our group of twenty was whittled down to about 13 in under a month.

I had accidentally gotten separated from my group when a massive herd of over a hundred walkers stumbled across our camp one day. Instead of sticking together, we all panicked and scattered. When I went back to the camp a few days later, no one was there. I even waited a week before accepting reality.

I wasn't too close personally with any of my group, we all bonded over the common goal of staying alive, but it's voice of reason, Tripp, had been my boyfriend for over a year. I never imagined the preppy blonde schoolboy could become the cold, wild man he was at the time of our group's separation. I couldn't blame him though, nobody stays the same in when the world is in shambles. My thoughts were on him often.

As I trekked through the woods, I was attentive and alert. It had been days since I had a proper meal and rest, but I was trying to stay hydrated to make up for it. I didn't come across any more corpses, so the day dragged on, and the sun crossed the sky. Glancing at my compass from time to time, I made sure I was headed south. If the was where my group was headed, hopefully we'd have a chance of stumbling into one another again.

As dusk neared, I began searching for a place to sleep at night. Usually I perched in a tree, so I looked about, when something out of the ordinary caught my eye. It was a treehouse, about 100 meters away. A rope ladder hung about six feet off the ground. If it was sturdy, I'd be able to rest a few days there while I looked for more food and resources. And if there was a treehouse, there was bound to be homes within a mile.

Using what little upper-arm strength I had, I pulled myself up the ladder and into the small shelter. There was a small opening that served as a door along with about three "windows" which were just square holes cut into each side of the wooden structure. The floor was made of plywood, and I was surprised at how sturdy and well-made it appeared. I pulled the rope ladder up behind me. The sun was setting, and I sat down on the floor, taking off my backpack and drinking from my canteen of water. I took inventory of everything I had, and sighed. I only had a few cans of food left, and, some wild berries, and an unopened bag of beef jerky. I normally hated beef jerky, but it could keep me alive.

Besides food I had my canteen, jacket and an extra pair of clothes with socks. I had a hairbrush, a ponytail holder, a toothbrush and toothpaste. There were a few other personal items I had grabbed before leaving my dorm, but that was it about it. I undid my hair from it's long plait and combed through it, massaging my scalp with my fingers. I made sure my gun was fully loaded and my knife was beside me before I packed up all of my items, neatly arranging them inside the backpack. Then I stretched out and closed my eyes, falling into a restless sleep.

I awoke the next morning feeling significantly more rested than before. I checked my watch and was surprised to see it was 11:30 am. I had slept for awhile.

I tossed the rope ladder down and put on my backpack, deciding to look for some food. The day was warm and I began walking away from the tree house, when suddenly I heard growling and the shuffling of feet through the woods. Shit.

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**Once again, sorry for how boring this might have been, I like my characters to have a well-developed backstory before I begin writing. Please read and review**


	2. I Came Across

**Thanks for all the awesome feedback guys! It means alot. :) This chapter actually has some action in it! I won't normally update this quickly, but I figured it needed to be to keep you interested! Thanks again:) Lemme know what you think!**

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I ducked behind a tree, holding my breath. The cost had been clear moments ago, before I left the treehouse. Peeking out from behind, my eyes fixed on three or four corpses shuffling after something, moving away from me. I assumed it was some type of animal, like a squirrel or a rabbit. Then one of them dropped to the ground, an arrow in its head.

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand, but stepped out further from behind the tree, curious. A man came into view, bearing some sort of crossbow. He was wearing a leather jacket and had dark hair, but I couldn't really see too much from the distance. Aggressively, he reloaded his crossbow and shot two more corpses down, then stabbed the final one with a large blade.

_Well, shit_, I mused in my head. I watched the man pull the arrows out of the corpses heads and cringed. Gross.

I stepped backward and a twig snapped beneath my feet, the man's head turned in my direction. Immediately I ducked behind the tree, praying I hadn't been seen, my body tense and rigid. After a few moments, I heard no movement, so I relaxed slightly, exhaling.

"I just saw ya, there's no point in hiding," I jumped at the southern drawl that sounded about five feet away.

I put my hand on the gun in the waistband of my cargo pants and stepped from behind the tree. The crossbow was pointed at my head.

"I don't want any trouble," I eyed the man wearily, casually shifting my jacket out of the way to display my handgun. I didn't want to hurt him in any way, but I wasn't about to let my life end because I stumbled across an angry, unstable hunter in the woods. I'd been going for too long to let things end so abruptly. His eyes flashed as he noticed the gun. He was tall and well-built, very muscular. His facial features were well-defined, with a sharp jawline covered in stubble.

"Why were you watching me?" he asked.

"I just came from over there and heard you," I gestured towards the treehouse. "Thought it was a herd. I promise I'll be on my way."

He shook his head. "Put the gun on the ground."

"How do I know you won't kill me?" I asked honestly. My voice cracked. This was the first I'd spoken out loud in ages.

He lowered his weapon and nodded at me as we slowly lowered our weapons on the ground.

"You a part of a group?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'm on my own. And you?"

"I've got a place," he narrowed his eyes at me. "How long have ya been on your own?"

I shrugged. "It's been about three months. Give or take a few days. Does your group take in people?"

He shrugged. "Depends. We won't take in any troublemakers. You've been able to fend for yourself this long? Where have you camped out?"

"Here and there. I don't stay anywhere too long. Just trying to survive mostly."

The man looked around and shifted his weight. "Don't suppose there's harm in taking you to my group, see what we can do."

An internal conflict arose inside me. "I don't know if I can." Still a bit leery of this man, I wasn't sure if I could trust him yet. But my only other option was wandering and trying to find my old group, the probability of which was significantly lower than that of being killed first. I took a deep breath. "I suppose I can come look. Will I be able to leave if I want?"

He gave me a strange look. "Of course. But until we get there, I'm going to have to ask ya to hand over your weapon."

I sucked in a breath, still unsure, but I picked the gun off the ground, flipping the safety switch and handing it over. I decided to keep the knife in the side pocket of my pants a secret, but he held out his hand, waiting.

"What?" I asked, then I saw his eyes flick down to the pocket of my pants and back up to me. I sighed and handed it over. "You know, you can't trust anyone."

He gave me a curt nod and gestured for me to follow him through the woods.

"So if you're with a group why are you alone?" I asked after a few minutes of silence.

"We were on a run and separated. They headed back to our place. I was planning on tryna hunt some game."

I nodded. So he was a hunter. Then there was silence for awhile. I appreciated that he didn't ask too many questions. Being the ultimate introvert, I had always preferred to avoid small talk unless there was something important to talk about. He seemed just as reticent.

We moved briskly through the woods, and his feet were silent on the leaves and twigs underfoot. The back of his jacket had wings on it, like something a motorcyclist would wear.

We came across a road with a motorcycle parked off to the side. _Strange_. I didn't connect the two until the man walked over and stepped on. I froze, and he looked at me.

"Well, are you coming back or not?" He snapped, looking around. "I ain't got all day."

I took a deep breath, nodding as I sat behind him on the motorcycle. I'd never been on one before, and as he revved the motor and we jerked forward, I grabbed his jacket, trying to keep from falling off while avoiding as much physical contact as possible. I was equally terrified of falling of and terrified of clinging too violently to him. If my mother would've seen me know she was have had a heart attack, getting on a motorcycle with a strange man and all.

As the woods rushed past on both sides of us, I contemplated my decision. Obviously there weren't a whole lot of options to choose from. Even though I was still a bit unsure about this man, I sensed that somewhere under his gruffness was a good person. It was time to open a new chapter in my survival. I allayed my fears, and focused on what was to come.


	3. What Once Was Mine

**Alright, for those of you who have asked, I planned to have this set right as Season 4 begins. There will be some elements that coincide with what's going on in the prison, but I am going to take some liberties with the plot. Depending on how this season goes, it may go off in a way different direction. Also, it may be set in a different time of year than the time going on right now. I just wanted to clarify! If you have any questions, shoot me a PM or a review!**

**Once again, thanks for the kind words and encouragement. They keep me motivated and are much appreciated.**

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I realized on the way there that I hadn't asked his name, which made me feel like a total idiot for not asking. After about a half-hour of driving, we arrived at at a prison. Gates surrounded it, and men and women patrolled the lines, killing off corpses that had gathered at the fences. There were a lot, most of them staggered around outside, or their hands were clasped on the fences, growling to get in. _The more people, the more dead we attract._

_How did they manage to clear this place out?_, I wondered. Corpses began limping towards us as we moved in towards the prison, and I unconsciously tightened my grip on the leather jacket in front of me.

Two large steel gates opened and forced the zombies into sharp wooden stakes lest they come too close to the entrance. As we glided past two sets of gates, we crossed through a small field where I noticed some crops growing, and even some animals in pens. We moved through another set of gates, and the next thing I knew, someone had yanked me off the bike and I was on my knees with my hands up, a gun pointed at my face. My backpack was violently ripped off of me. My breathing stopped and I felt myself shaking uncontrollably.

"Hey, hey. If I brought her here, she's obviously no threat," the man said, grabbing me under my arm and bringing me to my feet. "I confiscated her weapons, and she hasn't tried anything funny."

The man who had pulled me off the bike lowered his gun and apologized.

"It's alright," I bit on my lip.

"Who is this?" a tall, stubbly man strode over, and I got the feeling he was some kind of leader around here. He had dark hair and intense eyes.

"I found her wandering around in the woods when I was goin' hunting, said she ain't sure if she's planning on staying, but asked to come back." the man who had found me said, "What's your name?"

"Vivien Peterson," I said quickly.

"Vivien," he repeated my first name, "I'm Daryl Dixon, this is Rick Grimes," he gestured towards the tall man. I went over the names in my head again, as to not forget.

"Nice to meet you," Rick said.

"You two, both of you," I nodded at Daryl and Rick.

"Are Glenn and Maggie back alright?" Daryl asked and Rick nodded. The small group of people who gathered around began to disperse as they lost interest in our arrival. I had no clue what the man...Daryl, was talking about so I looked around, getting my first real look at the prison up close.

"So, Vivien, would you like someone to take you around? We can give you a place to stay and food to eat." Rick turned back to me.

I nodded, "That would be great. I don't mind pitching in around here if you need help."

Rick smiled, "That shouldn't be necessary, at least not right away."

A pretty woman came up beside Rick. She looked older, and had short gray hair and sparkling eyes. Rick greeted her and the talked to one another in hushed tones, glancing at me. I turned to Daryl, but he was unloading things from a compartment on his motorcycle. He bent down and picked up my backpack, handing it to me.

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded and grunted before retreating towards one of the cell blocks.

"Vivien?" I turned to face Rick, who was standing next to the woman. "This is Carol, she'll show you around."

I nodded, watching Rick as he walked away.

Carol smiled. "We're happy to have you here, Vivien."

"Thank you," I repeated, feeling like a tape recorder.

She gestured for me to follow her, so I did, and we walked towards a cell block.

"There's about thirty of us here right now. Originally we came in with about ten, but we lost some and gained some from Woodbury, which was a settlement that shut down some 6 months ago." She said.

"Why'd it shut down?" I asked, curious.

She shook her head, "It's a long story. I'll spare you from it now."

"Oh okay." I could sense she didn't want to discuss it, so I dropped the subject.

We walked past a pavillion where people were eating and talking to one another, a few of them exchanged glances towards me and Carol waved. I was a bit overwhelmed, I hadn't been around this many people in ages.

"We'll have you stay in Cell-block C, which is where I live, too," she informed.

"So...do you all live in prison cells?"

She nodded. "I know it seems barbaric, but you're free to come and go as you please."

I let out a small laugh.

"So, Vivien, what's your story?" She asked

It was such a serious question, so abruptly asked, but instead of shying away, I opened my mouth. I had found it was useless to try to be secretive about where you came from in this world. No suffering you'd been through was any different from the suffering of anyone else.

I took in a breath, surprised by the chill in the Georgian air. "Well, I'll give you the condensed version. I was in college and the outbreak struck. I had no way to get back to my parents or brother, who live in Boston, since they shut down the phone lines. I went off in a group of about 15 students who managed to escape. We lost a few people as we headed south, but we did pretty well at the beginning. Then our camp got overrun and our group got split up." I took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Carol stopped and turned to me. "Do you know what happened to your group? Or your family?"

I shook my head. "I hope my parents got out of Boston, I think they'd be smart enough to do so, but I don't know for sure. As for my group, who knows. We were dropping like flies. I don't think anyone got bit when we were overrun, but I've been on my own a few months." I shuddered thinking about it, Tripp especially. I hoped he was alright. "Anything could have happened," I said quietly, more to myself.

Carol nodded slowly. There was something about her I liked, a deep kindness that could only be expressed by someone with true sincerity. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd seen in awhile. "Well, if you decide to stay, you won't be alone anymore," she assured. "You said you were in college. What were you planning on majoring in?"

"Oh," I laughed, though I wasn't quite sure why. "I have a major in Pre-Medical studies, and a minor in physics. I was in med school when the outbreak hit. Studying to be a brain surgeon."

Carol nodded, then smiled. "A doctor? You'll be of good use to us here, if you'd like to help"

"Technically I'm not a certified-" I began but she cut me off, serious.

"Now, I want to disclose this to you before you move in."

I cocked my head. "Disclose what?"

"There's a sickness going around. We don't know what it is, but a boy died, then turned and infected others. We'll put you in the C-Block because the few residing there haven't been directly exposed."

"Woah," I took a step back from her, and I saw a sadness flicker across her eyes.

"Vivien, please stay. We could use your help and-"

"I can't afford to get sick." I cut her off, knowing it was rude, but panic bubbled inside me and I was unable to calm myself down. If I would've known this I would've never come here. "What kind of sickness is it?"

She sighed. "It has flu-like symptoms. Fever, coughing, chills... We noticed it in some swine we kept around here. Either we infected them or they infected us."

"Pigs?" I asked and she nodded.

"That's typically where it starts, with birds, pigs, other animals," I said, thinking. Then something clicked.

"Oh!" I said so suddenly that Carol jumped and I had to apologize.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It all makes sense now. A few weeks ago I killed a wild boar in the woods. It was kind of a big deal for me, because I'd never been able to hunt before, and I had chased it down, even though it was slower than I thought it should've been. I ate some of the meat, and shortly after got really sick. I was coughing and had a fever, and I even threw up a few times. I rarely get sick with the flu... I assumed it was food poisoning from the boar, because it only lasted a a day or so, but I completely knocked me out. " I trailed off.

A strange spark was lit inside me. Although sickness was always a terrible thing, I was ridiculously excited about being able to apply things I had learned, although it seemed like I learned them forever ago, "The boar could have been sick...and if it's the same thing I had, I might be okay."

"Well, we won't let you get too close, just in case." Carol assured. "If you'd like to help, though, I can introduce you to Hershel Greene. He takes care of any medical needs we have."

I nodded. She briefly took me to the cell block I'd be staying, and showed me the cell they had cleared for me.

It was a little dirty, and the sheets were rumpled over the cot, but it was the first time I'd ever seen a bed in ages, and I felt myself sigh.

Carol smiled. "It's not much, but-"

"No, you have no clue. I've been sleeping in trees for the past 3 months. This is better than what I could've imagined."

She smiled again and nodded. "I'll let you get settled in. If you'd like there's a bathroom down the hallway. We have showers, but we're trying to preserve water as much as possible. If you need anything, I'll be around, and probably anyone will help you."

"Thank you." I said as she retreated.

I entered the cell, which had a bunk bed. I assumed I had no bunkmate, seeing that no one else's belongings were near. There was a small sink with a mirror in one corner, but otherwise that was it. I took the backpack off my shoulders and sat down, turning my face away from the dirty mirror. I stared at the floor. A thin layer of dust coated everything, but if I could find some cleaning supplies, I could take care of it.

First I tossed my backpack on the top bunk. In general, the sheets smelled and looked decently clean, but I stripped them off to check for bugs, shaking them out briskly in the open area outside of my cell. It was ridiculous to be a clean freak in this situation, but it could make me feel a bit more sane, a bit more in control.

I'd never been in a prison before, and would probably never wanted to if it weren't for my extenuating circumstances. It was certainly a dull and drab place. _Did the makers of the prison realized that in their struggle of keeping people from escaping, they also kept people from getting in?_ _Well, not so much people as bodies, _I wondered to myself.

After I shook out the sheets, I put them back on the bed and straightened them out so there were no wrinkles. I opened my backpack and looked inside, making sure nothing had fallen out on my way here. I wasn't quite ready to unpack and get too comfortable, but I figured I'd take a shower and introduce myself to some people.

Then I remembered that Daryl had my gun and my knife. Regardless of how well-secured this prison was, I wanted my weapons back. They were mine, anyways. The problem was, Daryl had basically disappeared the moment we arrived at the prison. I groaned inwardly.

_Oh well_, I could take a shower, change, and then decide what to do.

As I trekked down the hallway, my backpack in tow-I didn't want anything else taken away from me, I realized this would have been my first real shower in 3 months. I usually just sponge bathed or jumped into rivers with a bar of soap, but those were always cold and hasty, I had never been able to truly wash myself off without fearing a herd would stumble upon me or another survivor would steal my clothes.

I found the bathroom, which was basically just a massive room filled with shower head, surrounded by curtains. Quickly, I searched the room, out of habit mostly. I knew the prison was probably safe, but if there was a virus killing people, there was a possibility that a corpse was wandering around, waiting for it's first meal as a member of Earth's newest species. I found nothing.

The water was cool, but it was refreshing. I found a bar of soap, razor, towel, shampoo and conditioner on a table as I walked in, and I closed the curtain behind me after peeling off my dirty clothes. It took me a good 30 minutes of scrubbing before the water ran clear. My hair was the grossest, I hadn't realized how greasy it was since I kept it back in a long braid all the time. I washed myself off once, then again, just to make sure I was completely clean. I knew Carol said they were trying to preserve water, but I wasn't about to only clean myself halfway. Quickly, I shaved, toweled off, and put on the clean clothes I had, folding the gross old ones under my arm. It was a loose white t-shirt and a pair of back jeans. I went over to a countertop lined with mirrors and finally faced my reflection.

It had been ages since I last saw my face. My face looked hollow, eyes sunken in. I had lost tons of weight. I remembered in college always being upset that I had a curvy shape and would never be a size zero, but that seemed ridiculous now. I probably lost at least 20 pounds since I had been with my group. I wasn't too good at finding food, and the constant stench of death in the air made my stomach forever queasy. For a moment I considered lifting my shirt, just to see what the rest of my body looked like, but decided against it. I would expose myself slowly. Mentally, I was already half-insane, I didn't want to make it worse by seeing what this new world had done to me all at once.

My shoulders slumped forward, and cuts and bruises were scattered across my exposed skin. Hell, I practically could have been a corpse, save for the fact that half my face wasn't rotting off and I still had all my limbs. I smiled into the mirror, although it was basically a grimace, and sighed. It didn't reach my eyes like it used to. The only thing that looked halfway decent was my hair.

It was pretty impractical in a zombie apocalypse, but it was the only thing left of the girl I once was. As long as it was braided back, it never got in the way. I had started growing it out past my shoulders my freshman year in college, as my mother had always thought anything past that made me look unkempt, but I liked it better long, and she couldn't do anything about it when I was away. Since then it had made it's way to my waist. It felt good to let it loose around my face, if only for a bit. The braid pulled at my scalp and gave me headaches after awhile.

I turned away from the mirror, using the toothbrush in my backpack to clean my teeth. After that shower I felt a helluva lot more human. Grabbing my backpack and dirty clothes, I made my way back to my cell.

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**Sorry for how dry the end of this was. Once again, I just need to establish a backstory, and exemplify more character traits. What do you guys think so far? Please review, favorite, etc :)**


	4. The Eighth Day

**I'd like to start off by saying that this season is absolutely crazy. And I can't handle it. But I won't spoil anything for those who haven't watched it….but seriously...so crazy.**

**Also please feel free to ask any questions if you are confused, I know I've thrown lots of information at you in these first few chapters, and there's only more to come, so let me know! I've sat down and written quite a bit of notes up to about Chapter 13! So hopefully I'll be able to sit down and begin working on them. **

**This chapter ends quite abruptly, due to the fact I'm trying to keep them all to a general length, but this took quite a bit more than I expected it to, and there were supposed to be more events taking place. So please read and review! :)**

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After about a week at the prison, I had managed to clean my cell with some supplies I had found in a nearly empty closet. I had scrubbed my fingers to the bone, and my cell reeked of bleach. Having a clean cell made me feel like I at least had one thing together in this life. I hated not being in control, and it seemed like control was the last thing anyone could grasp onto.

So far, the 'illness' Carol had told me about had only taken a few people. Most of the damage had been done when those who died turned. They separated the people who were exposed and those who weren't, and they were put into different cell blocks. The few that were sick were already in confinement. The lone doctor they called Dr.S who worked in there always had a handkerchief tied over his face when he came outside. Unfortunately, I had never been allowed close enough to him to be introduced.

I still had yet to determine if what I had been sick with was the same virus. Although I wasn't too crazy about the idea to get close enough to the infected for fear it was something different, I wouldn't have minded being able to take a look at Hershel or Dr.S's notes on it.

Upon arrival, I had been introduced to just about everyone here, except for the few who were ill, and they were all generally friendly. Although I wasn't necessarily shy, I had a hard time conversing with those I didn't know, I felt small talk was exhausting, but surprisingly, as I interacted with others here, I began to feel more at ease. For the first time in 3 months, I had people.

Despite the good that had come of achieving this relative comfort, I felt utterly useless. After offering help defending borders, cleaning, cooking, farming, and even assisting the ill, it seemed everyone already had established roles here. They didn't need my help. I had probably bothered Carol ten times just to see if there was anything, and each time she had politely denied.

The only thing I needed to do was to find Daryl, and talk to him. The man remained an enigma, and I had seen him once briefly throughout my week here. Quite the leader, he was either in meetings with the council, or out on short runs to pick up food and other necessities. The only time I knew his whereabouts was at night. He had a cell next to mine, but he didn't sleep there, he slept on the perch above that looked over the entire cell block. And he wasn't up there for long, because he'd take guard shifts patrolling the grounds.

When I had seen him last, he was digging graves near the prison's farm, and I didn't want to interrupt. Basically, I needed to talk to him about getting my gun and knife back. This place was safe, but I needed them back just in case, especially with the flu outbreak. Also, they were my property, and regardless of safety, they belonged in my cell with my unpacked backpack I kept hidden underneath my bunk.

After one full week, as I strolled through the courtyard area in the morning, I happened to see Daryl out in the field, patrolling the fences and checking it for any possible damage, or areas where corpses could break through. Now was my chance. I quickly jogged through the first fence, and into the open area with all the graves and the farm. The rickety wooden crosses in their eerie rows seemed to gaze at me as I jogged, and I couldn't help but slow down. I didn't really know who any of them belonged to, but nevertheless, I felt a pang in my heart.

"Daryl!" I called his name as I approached, and he jumped slightly, straightening up from a crouched position, turning to me. He didn't say anything.

"Sorry for sneaking up on you. Do you remember me?"

He nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah, Vivien, right?"

I nodded, then we were silent

"Uh, what are you doing?" I asked.

"Checkin' the fence."

"I see. Do you need help?" I asked. I realized that this may not be easy, so I had to finesse him for a bit.

He shook his head, trudging forward, and I followed him. "Just makin' sure there ain't a possibility of any walkers gettin' through. We already have enough on our hands with the flu outbreak."

"Oh…" I recalled something peculiar he had said, "You call them walkers?"

He turned to look at me, his eyes squinting at the rising sun behind me. "Yeah, what do you call 'em?"

I exhaled, shaking my head. "I don't know. 'Them'. . . . maybe."

He chuckled, "'Them' might be too general a term 'round here. Feel free to use walkers yourself."

I smiled slightly, as he turned around to face the fence again. His accent was gruffer and more severe than most of the other refugees here. I wondered where he was from. For awhile, we were both silent. I cleared my throat.

"Listen, Daryl," I spoke, "I just wanted to thank you...again for bringing me back here. I know I didn't say much, but, I had been on my own for quite some time...and this is really better than anything I could have expected."

"No problem," he said, a slight sharpness to his tone, not looking at me.

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable-"

"You aren't," he said.

It was silent again. Welp, here goes.

"Well, Daryl, I came to discuss the possibility of getting my gun and knife back from you." I said quickly, and watched him stiffen.

"Why?"

"Well, because they're mine." I suggested, "And in case anything happens, I want- I need to be able to protect myself."

"Don't suppose you could easily kill one of us with it, either?" he faced me.

I tilted my head. "Are you suggesting I'm not trustworthy?"

He shrugged. "You can't trust people these days, am I right?"

I opened and closed my mouth, "That's besides the point. And I've inquired to help here and everything. What would I gain from taking people out?"

He shook his head, "You've only been here a week. You don't need a gun or knife, and you don't need to be helping. You said so yourself, you'd been on you're own awhile. The best thing to do to recover is lie low for a few days.

"I believe I've recovered enough to at least help with simple tasks. I have nearly ten years of medical school under my belt and-"

"Don't complain to me about what you can or can't do." He said suddenly, and I knew this wouldn't end well. "I ain't makin' the rules. The council made a decision that all new refugees here have two weeks without a weapon, 'less there are special circumstances. You're safe enough without them."

"Well, with all due respect, sir... am I?" I questioned. "What if someone in my cell block turns overnight from this flu?"

His jaw set, and although I didn't mean to make him angry, I wasn't going to be spoken to this way.

"Look, Goldilocks, you're talkin' to the wrong person. You've got a problem with the rules? Talk ta Carol, or Glenn, or Hershel," he spread out his arms. "I ain't got time for this."

"Daryl, I know you're on the council. I'm a good person." I begged, one last time. Then I lowered my voice, "I just want to be safe."

"Don't we all," he muttered under his breath, and then spoke up. "Go on, now. I'm busy."

I bit my lower lip and furrowed my brown. Dammit. "Well, have a good day." I said, trying to sound genuinely polite, but it probably came off as rude and sarcastic. Than I turned around to look for another council member.

* * *

**Well, sorry about that. I hate making OC's fight with canon characters. :( If you don't know the OC well enough, I feel like they can come off as being unreasonable or rude. But I promise that isn't the case! Hopefully, I portrayed Daryl well! Tell me what you think. **


	5. To Live This Life

**This may be my last update until about November 12. I have a bunch of projects my teachers are piling on, and as much as I'd rather be writing this, I have to keep my grades up! So I thought I'd try to put out another chapter before that! **

**I've decided to take a more casual, natural approach at developing relationships in this story. It's more realistic, and allows for a greater deal of character growth. ****Also, to clarify, I'm going to go ahead and disregard the murder of David and Karen in this fic, at least for now. As always, I look forward to reading your reviews, so please let me know what you think.**

* * *

Carol was found underneath the small pavillion where most meals were served. The food here was just enough to get by, but in retrospect, was good. Carol's usually serene countenance seemed very off when I approached her.

"Morning Carol," I smiled at her as best I could.

"Oh," she jumped slightly, as though I caught her off guard. She relaxed when she saw it was me. "Good morning Vivien, would you like some breakfast?"

She gestured to the makeshift stove underneath the pavillion that I had observed her cooking at most days. My first impression of Carol proved to be right, she was one of the most kind and caring people I'd ever met in my life, let alone in the middle of an apocalypse. As a member of the council that helped govern the prison, she was well-respected and well-known among the small population that resided within the fences. In my small amount of time here, she had made sure I was introduced to mostly everyone, and had checked in with me everyday to see how I was fairing. She knew and understood that I wasn't completely sure about making the prison my permanent home.

I shook my head, having already eaten, "No thank you. If you aren't busy, I was wondering if we could talk for a bit?"

She nodded. "Just give me a few minutes, let me make sure everyone's been fed."

"Okay, do you need help?"

Carol shook her head and smiled as she walked away. I felt my shoulders drop, sighing.

I leaned up against the brick side of the prison, staring at my nails, which somehow had dirt under them. The filth that I had washed off my first day at the prison seemed to reappear after each shower, as though it wasn't quite ready to let me go. I was flattered by it's dedication, but considering I hadn't done much dirty work since I got here, had no idea how it kept coming back.

Closing my eyes, I dropped my hand and leaned my head against the wall supporting me. The sun was out today, and it warmed my face. The sky was cloudless, and it made me think of clear blue eyes and messy blonde hair I used to run my fingers through lazily. The pristine white teeth that pulled back into a large, dimpled grin. Before all this, that smile. _Him._ I bit my lower lip and looked forward, only to see Carol approaching me.

Straightening up, I met her halfway.

She smiled, her eyes squinting in the sun. "Let's walk and talk," So I followed.

"What do you need?" She asked.

I sucked in an anxious breath, not expecting as violent a reaction as Daryl, yet still nervous.

"Well, I'm just wondering when I'll be able to get my gun and knife back."

Carol sighed, shaking her head. "Are you leaving?"

I shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. But regardless, they're mine and I'd like them for protection."

"Vivien, you know you're safe here, right?" Carol asked.

"I don't believe I'm safe anywhere, to be honest."

She laughed, rather bitterly, and said more to herself, "What a way to live life."

I was silent a moment. "Its the only way to live this life. That is, if you want to keep living."

Carol stopped walking and turned to me, staring. Her expression seemed unsettled.

"Is that not true?"

"It's very true. It shouldn't be that way." She sat on a wooden crate. We were some ways away from the others, still in the confines of the prison gates.

I sat beside her, "It shouldn't, but it is."

When I approached Carol I hadn't known what the outcome of our conversation would be, yet I didn't know it'd go this way.

Nobody knew why this happened. Was it God? Or was it just the way the world worked? Survival of the fittest. But nothing seemed plausible. I'd seen many a strong man and woman go down without even having a chance to fight. So what determined who would live and who died? There were so many questions, but no real answers. An you could feign and fake it anyway you wanted, but nothing would add up.

"I'm sorry, Vivien." Carol stood up suddenly, and I realized we had been sitting in silence for quite some time.

I stood too. "For what?"

"As a member of the council, I can't give you back your weapons. You can get them back next week. But as a survivor, I support your position. I know where you're coming from." She put her hand on my shoulder.

I shied away from touch usually, hating the feeling of being coddled, but knowing her intentions were only sympathetic, I resisted the urge to shrug her hand off, but my body unconsciously tensed.

Sighing, I nodded. "I understand, I guess." Carol's hand left my shoulder and I felt my body relax slightly.

She apologized again as we began walking back to the pavilion. I didn't respond, torn between accepting defeat and acting like a brat for not getting my way. To light the slight tension that had formed between us, I broke my vendetta against small talk.

"So, about this weather..." I teased, smiling slightly.

She laughed. "Actually it's a beautiful day."

I agreed, and we chatted about winter, which was only a few months away. Although I'd never experienced Georgia's winter, I assumed it was mild, like South Carolina's. Mild compared to Massachusetts, at least.

"I'm from Massachusetts." I told Carol, "And I remember my first year of college in South Carolina, it snowed like three inches. I remember all classes were cancelled, and the administration kept telling us to stay inside. I thought it was the funniest thing, coming from a place where it's basically winter from August to May. A foot of snow is almost nothing to us."

I surprised myself for sharing the anecdote, but Carol was laughing. "Well, winter won't be much different from South Carolina here . If anything, we'll freak out if it even snows at all."

Chuckling, we were interrupted by a fit of coughing. Glancing up from the ground, I saw Sasha, a woman who I was acquainted with, leaning against the side of cell block D, holding herself up. Her usually even complexion was pallid, her cheeks sunken, and her eyes dull. The exposed skin on her body was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Carol immediately moved towards her but she held up a hand, shaking her head. "Don't come any closer, I got it." She managed.

_Shit._ I thought.

Carol looked torn, shifting her weight forward, wanting to help, but knowing it wasn't worth the risk. The conflict was in her eyes, tearing her up.

I placed a hand in front of Carol to hold her back, less the conflict won.

"Sasha, you..." Carol's voice broke, " You know where to go."

Sasha nodded as she struggled to walk towards the cell block dedicated to house the ones that were ill. I took mental notes on Sasha's appearance, her symptoms, noting the blood in the handkerchief she held. I remembered very little of my illness, I was mostly in an unconscious feverish state, but I did recall the blood in my vomit, the uncontrollable shaking and weakness. It didn't necessarily mean anything, since they were such common symptoms. But at the same time, it could mean everything.

I was unable to help myself as I watched her slowly make her way into the cell block, an eerie silence had passed over the pavilion we were standing. We all knew what it meant. The disease was spreading, and the only thing we could do was wait.

After a few moments, I dropped my arm, and Carol turned to me. "Anyways," she swallowed, "I'm going to see about you getting your knife back."

"And my gun, too," I spoke. "I should be leaving in a few days."


	6. Could Have Made It

I'm in a bit of a writer's block trying to figure out where to go with the next chapter, so I instead thought I'd do a bit of intercalary chapter with a flashback of Vivien's time with her group.

I've had a bit of a busy week, so I may not update again for a bit. I want to make this next chapter awesome.

* * *

_Three Months Earlier_

I woke up from the cold, rolling over to find that Tripp wasn't by my side any longer. Sighing, I pushed myself off the ground. It was too early to be awake, the sun was slowly slipping up over the horizon, but the dew on the leaves of the trees around me remained unevaporated. I looked at my watch. 6:00am. Seriously?

Taking a sip from my canteen, I then used the water to brush my teeth, then spit it out on the grass in front of our tent. I walked out into the slowly warming air. Springtime in Georgia was probably really pretty, but the two men standing with assault rifles were a harsh reminder of reality.

I waved hello to Aaron and Daniel, the two fellow college students who had remained with us since the beginning of the outbreak. They were on watch, and waved back with a smile before returning to their work. Approaching Aaron, who had become a close friend of Tripp's, I asked him where he was.

"I saw him walk off into the woods that way," he said, gesturing.

Our camp was a measly group of tents in the middle of a clearing small clearing, surrounded by woods. It was kind of in the middle of nowhere, but there were a few unlooted stores within a 30 minutes drive where we got supplies.

Aaron had gestured to the woods, so I traipsed in. It didn't take me too long to find Tripp, who was sitting with his back against a tree. He was staring at the forest in front of him.

"Hey," I said quietly as I approached him.

He started slightly, then turned to me. "Oh, hey. Sleep well?" His mouth tugged up slightly on one side in a smile.

I shrugged. "I slept all right. What about you? Why are you up so early?"

It was his turn to shrug. "I'm just thinking. You can sit." He scooted over slightly.

I was surprised by his docile behavior. Lately he'd been pretty harsh, brooding, and rude to us all. Slowly, I sat on the wet leaves beside him. We sat in silence, his shoulder against mine, and he sighed.

"What's on your mind?" I poked his muscular arm that protruded from his mud-stained white t-shirt, using my thumb to knead his bicep. "You're cold." I said as I touched his skin.

"I've been out here awhile."

He shook his head, furrowing his brows and running his opposite hand through his long blonde hair. It stuck up in all directions, and had grown past his ears. He hadn't shaved in a while, and stubble covered his sharp jawline. He opened his mouth.

"I don't know. I just needed to think, I guess."

I dropped my hand from his arm and stood up, figuring he wanted his space.

"No," he jumped to his feet, grabbing my arm. "Don't go." I turned to him and I could see in his navy eyes what was wrong.

He didn't know. We all didn't know. He didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't want to admit it to me, or anyone else. He had been the unspoken leader of our group for quite some time, and the stress was too much.

I met Tripp Montgomery after I had first gotten to college. I had a single dorm and one of the other girls in my hall was transferring schools, so to send her off she threw herself a party. Tripp was there ( he was good friends with the girl), and we hit it off right away. He was a frat boy, with smouldering blue eyes and long, but clean-cut blonde hair he combed away from his face. I was blown away by how handsome he was. His smile could light up a room, he was the most charming young man I'd ever encountered.

For a long time we never ran into one another. I had never been into the party scene, and that was where he thrived. After he managed to get my number, I would wake up in the middle of the night to his drunk confessions of his love for me. It felt nice to have an older, cute boys attention. Still, even after all these calls, we rarely spent time together.

Tripp's partying days came to an abrupt end when he got into a bar fight and was almost put into jail. His parents had bailed him out, but were livid. Shortly after he sobered up, he began to go out of his way to see me and asked me on many dates.

Before Tripp, I hadn't ever had a boyfriend. I had never bothered myself with talking to men. I enjoyed being independant, and anytime a man ever infringed or tried to disrupt that, I would cut all communications. But my parents loved Tripp. They had impossibly high standards and he met them. He was going into law school. He came from a high class family with a good reputation. He had a lot of money in his name. For them, that was all that mattered. He supported and encouraged through everything, and he also kept me in check. For the most part, he made me happy.

Although I wasn't one for displaying affection, I walked forward, I embraced him and buried my face in his neck. I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach him. He pressed his lips to my forehead, but didn't move at all. After a moment, I pulled away, a little upset that he hadn't embraced me back. He was freezing up again, he had caught his weakness.

"You're a little confused, I know." I said quietly. "We all are."

He shook his head, kissing me. "I'm okay. We are all gonna be okay."

"I know. You don't have to put up the facade for me, Tripp. I know you. It's okay to be unsure." I pressed my thumb into his palm. His hands were cold, too.

"I mean, this isn't a facade. I'm fine. I swear." he said shortly.

"I know you're fine." I repeated myself.

"I'm not weak." He dropped his hand from mine, turning around. He was long gone. He wasn't really there.

"And you don't need to prove that to anybody. We've survived this long, how can we be weak?"

Tripp looked back at me, blinking, blue eyes burning with hope.

"You're right, we aren't weak." He smiled slightly, though it didn't have the friendliness I wished it did.

I offered him my hand again and he took it, lacing his fingers through mine and pulling me into his arms. His skin was cool but he was soft and gentle, and his stubble brushed my face as he bent down to kiss my cheek. We stayed like that for a moment, then I pulled away. Tripp looked upset.

"I'm going to go back to camp. You can stay out here as long as you need to, I'll let the others know where you are." I said softly.

He nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I tore my gaze away from his mesmerizing eyes, and walked back towards the camp.

The next part, I don't remember very well. There was a sudden fit of yelling and screaming, and I saw a few corpses at the end of the clearing. Behind them, the tree trunks appeared to be moving, swaying and staggering, and then I realized that it was just an impossible number of corpses. I looked frantically for Tripp, than realized he was already back at the camp, yelling orders for people to follow him.

My gun was in my tent. No corpses were close to it, so I ran quickly. I had a prepacked bag that was ready, in case we were overrun. I only took a few moments to get, but by then, it was too late. The camp was swarming with bodies. Tripp and the others were on the opposite side of the camp.

"Vivien!" He was screaming my name, gesturing me to come towards him, come towards the rest of the group, but too many were in between us. I ran the risk of dying trying to stay with him.

Aaron and Daniel were pulling him back, and I realized he was trying to get to me.

The moans and groans of the walking bodies around me filled the air, and many were approaching me. I realized that they were coming from all directions, I looked at Tripp. His face was twisted in anguish. "What are you doing? Come on!" Even Aaron and Daniel were hollering for me to come.

Something twisted in my gut. "I'll be fine!" I screamed. "You stay safe!"

Then I bolted in the opposite direction.

It was the only smart thing to do. I ran for what felt like forever. Then I walked and ran some more. The backpack I had grabbed felt heavy, and I slowed to a stop. I was thirsty and exhausted. I did the only smart thing I could think of and climbed a tree.

After what felt like ages I caught my breath and thought about my decision. Doubling back was a bad idea. That was the biggest herd I'd ever seen, and I'd run the risk of dying looking for them. I supposed I was on my own, at least for the time being. I didn't cry when I thought of Tripp, though I wasn't' happy. I was relieved to an extent, to be out from under his thumb and his ever-changing moods, but I would miss his body next to mine at night, his lips pressed against my neck. _Could I have made it across? Everything seemed blurry in my head. There may have been less than I saw in my mind, but none of it made sense._ I shook him out of my head for the moment. I couldn't think about that now, I'd think about it later.

I was terrified. I didn't know what to do. I didn't where to start or what I had to figure out, so I focused on the task at hand. _Survive._


	7. The Only Options

_The beginning part of this chapter is a 3rd person omniscient narrator._

* * *

On the day after Sasha came down with the virus, the council sat down in the library of the prison, mulling over ideas on how to contain the newest outbreak. Two more had fallen ill. Although the council didn't necessarily govern or control those who lived at the prison, they had to make decisions for the well being of their residents. Council meeting were usually open to others at the prison to observe and share ideas, but considering the circumstances, this particular meeting was private. So far, they weren't getting anywhere.

"Well," said Hershel, scratching his chin, "We can't just let those who haven't been exposed walk freely anymore. We should to quarantine them just as much as those who are ill, in a different part of the prison."

"But how do we even know who's been exposed? We've all been exposed to a certain extent," Glenn interjected. "Not to completely shut down your idea, there's almost nothing we can do."

Carol sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table,"What about Judith, and Carl and Beth? And the other children? They weren't in that cell block when Patrick turned. They haven't been directly exposed. We need to protect those who haven't started showing symptoms."

Glenn put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. "You would think we'd be spared from a second outbreak. It doesn't even make sense. Over half the world's population is gone and suddenly a new virus is coming into play. What's even spreading it?"

"That ain't what's important." Daryl scowled, finally speaking up from where he sat backwards on a chair, arms crossed in front of him. "Nothing we can do 'bout it."

"He's right, Glenn. It may not make sense, but we can't just sit here and wonder why. We have to take action," Hershel put a hand on Glenn's arm and Glenn immediately straightened up.

"So we should quarantine the children?" Rick questioned.

Hershel and Carol exchanged glances briefly. "It seems like the only option we have." said Hershel.

"You mean I won't be able to see my children, take care of them?" Rick asked, his face bewildered.

"You know Beth can take care of Judith just fine. Carl might as well be on his own, he can handle himself well," Hershel said, "Just until we're out of danger."

Rick sighed in exasperation. "And when's that going to be?"

Hershel shook his head, and there was silence. "There's nothing else we can do, Rick. We'll have to advise people to stay in their cells as much as possible, be aware of others with symptoms, and not to socialize too much. We can quarantine the kids who haven't been exposed. Then we wait. Any objections?"

The other members of the council, including those who remained silent through the discussion exchanged glances, nodding their silent approval.

"Then, we'd better get to it soon as possible." Hershel sighed.

Rick was clearly upset, but he knew that being seperated from Carl and Judith was a small price to pay in order to keep them safe. He quietly dismissed the council members, and left the room as quickly as possible.

"We need a group to go out on a run. Nothing big, just to get some more canned goods and food." Carol announced as the council began to clear out of the room. Nobody seemed to hear her, though they were all leaving silently. Daryl approached her.

"I can go. I'll take Michonne. Anythin' else 'sides food?" he asked, and Carol shook her head.

"Nothing that I know of. Thank you, Daryl." she smiled gently.

"Ain't a problem," he followed her out of the room. Daryl stared at her small, retreating figure in the dim hallway. He then remembered something peculiar he'd seen yesterday.

"Carol," he called after her and she turned back to him.

"Yes?"

"Gotta ask ya somethin'," he moved towards her.

"What's that?"

"Yesterday I saw ya talkin' to that new girl, Vivien." He began, and she nodded, "What'd she want?"

"Oh, she wanted to know if she could have her gun and knife back?"

"Did ya give it ta her?"

Carol nodded and Daryl's face twisted with anger. "Why? Thought we agreed ya can't have one without bein' here for two weeks."

"I know, but she's leaving. The virus is scaring her off."

Daryl relaxed slightly.

"It's a shame," Carol said, "We could have used her. She told me that she had just taken her final exam to become a doctor, but she hadn't done her residency yet, so she wasn't board certified. But in my mind that'd still be nice to have around."

"A shame," he said, not knowing how to respond. And Carol nodded.

"Be safe on your run, okay?"

He smiled at Carol slightly. "Don't worry 'bout me. I'll be fine."

Carol grinned at him, her eyes sad before turning and leaving.

* * *

_Vivien_

I took one last look at 'my' prison cell before I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out. With my gun and knife back, I felt secure and safe at last, which was a shame, because I was leaving.

Probably I couldn't tell you an exact reason as to why I was leaving. Maybe it's because I hadn't felt safe without my weapons, maybe it was because of this flu going around, and maybe it was because I felt I had no real purpose here. It was most likely all those things combined, coupled with that fact that my insides were tearing themselves apart trying to decide whether I wanted to find Tripp, if he was even still alive, or if I wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. If we ran into each other, I'd have no choice but to join him, and the thought made me slightly sick.

I walked out past the pavillion and though the first set of gates, wondering how I could run from the large clumps of 'walkers' that surrounded the prison, if that was even possible. I'd never seen anyone leave here without a car or vehicle. Pausing, I looked around at the farm I had seen Rick and his son, Carl, working on every single morning, picking weeds and watering plants. The garden was a nice sign of hope, I thought. Then I looked at the growing number of graves beyond that. A chill went down my spine, and I began walking again.

Two little girls were playing near the farm, laughing and yelling, and only a few feet away past two more fences, was a large clump of walkers, hissing and growling. I noticed something peculiar about the kids. They were calling out to something.

"Nick! Come here Nick!" The taller, blonde called, giggling. When my eyes caught what they were calling to I broke out into a full sprint. It was a corpse inside the gates. I had no idea how it got there, but these two girls were about to become lunch.

Why were these girls not afraid? The corpse lunged at them when it got close, and they both began to scream.

"Get back!" I shouted, pulling my knife out and sprinting past them, sinking my knife into it's skull without thinking. It slumped to the ground and I pulled my knife from the body. I turned around, the girls were still screaming.

"Where'd that get in?"

One of them pointed to an open part of the fence that was usually held closed by a series of wire. Three more corpses had gotten through, and I quickly took two of them out. A third grabbed my arm, ready to sink it's teeth into me, but I kicked it off and twisted my knife through it's eye. Breathing heavily, I laced back up the wire where the corpses had gotten through. I had no clue how they got through both sets of fences, but I could get Rick or someone to look at it.

"Are you alright? Are you bitten or scratched?" I turned back to the girls, looking past them as I saw Daryl, Carol, and Rick approaching, their paces quick, face concerned. Rick's hand was on his holster, and Daryl's crossbow was slung over his shoulder. A few other residents were back at the pavillion, gazing curiously.

They shook their heads quickly, the younger, smaller girl held on to the taller one, who glared at me.

"You killed him," she said quietly, sadly.

"He was already dead." I exclaimed. "What the hell were you thinking? He's not a person, he'll kill you. _He_ will eat you alive!" I snapped angrily, spreading my arms out.

I took deep breaths as I stared at the girl who had began crying.

"Vivien, please. I can take this from here," Carol took both girls by the shoulders and walked them away, talking in a stern, smooth voice. Her words were unintelligible to me.

I suddenly realized I looked slightly crazed, I was still holding my knife, and my chest was heaving. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.

"I'm so sorry." I dropped my knife and muttered to Rick. Daryl stood a few feet behind him, his arms crossed.

"Vivien," he said sternly, "Thank you. I'm surprised Maggie didn't see that happening."

"She's takin' care of a clump over there. Probly why didn't see it," Daryl chimed in from behind Rick.

I began trembling slightly, but I took a deep breath and straightened up, as Rick lowered his voice.

"Those two girls, Lizzie and Mika...their dad died when the cell block was attacked. Carol has to take care of them now...but...Lizzie ain't right in the head," he said quietly.

I nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed at my outburst. "I should go apologize to them. That wasn't right of me. I'm not very good with children."

Rick shrugged, "That's up to you."

"Okay," I walked past him and picked up my backpack, which I had shed before defending the girls. It was at Daryl's feet and he watched me as I picked it up. Straightening, I looked him in the eye. We hadn't spoken since the quarrel over getting my weapons back. I knew he didn't like me, but there wasn't much I could do to help that.

He was hard to read, and reticent unless he was around those who knew him well. He was also intimidating. Good lord was he intimidating. His eyes squinted when I met his stare, and he opened he mouth.

"Carol tells me yer leavin'. Any reason why?"

Rick stepped beside him, but wasn't nearly as close in proximity as Daryl was to me now.

"I'm better on my own," glancing from Daryl to Rick, I sighed, "I should try to find my group,"

"Wait, I don't know if I feel comfortable sending you out there right now. Look at all these clumps of walkers we've got. They'll go right after you," Rick sounded distressed.

"I don't know what to tell you," my words tumbled without stopping. "I serve no purpose to you here." I took a step backwards, overwhelmed by Daryl's presence.

Rick shook his head, "I can't make you stay. If you want to leave, you can. But if you really want to help, we can find something for you to do."

"Thank you."

I knew what Rick was trying to say. With the limited amount of people left alive, letting them go made you feel responsible for whatever happened to them. Being a loner for awhile had taught me that no matter how antisocial you are, other people are a blessing.

So I decided I'd stay for awhile, despite the outbreak of this new virus. I'd rather die here than be torn to pieces by a walker in the middle of nowhere.

Daryl nodded at my response and turned around. "I told Carol I'd take Michonne with me on a quick run for food. Need anything, Rick?"

Rick shook his head, and Daryl walked back up towards the prison.

"Rick, thank you. I'm going to apologize to Lizzie and Mika. But you might want to check the perimeters. Somehow those things got through both fences." I informed him.

Rick nodded. "I'll check it out now. And thanks for catching it before things got out of hand,"

I bowed my head quickly in response before following Daryl's path back to the prison.

* * *

**Please review, tell me what you think! Questions, comments and concerns are much appreciated! :D**


	8. Apology

**Hey all! Thanks for the kind reviews, they are much appreciated. This story is about to be picking up speed! I will warn you that I might be a tad overwhelmed with school work the next few weeks, so updates won't be as often! :( But I want to keep a consistent quality of writing, and don't want to put crap writing out to you just so the chapters get out faster.**

When I finally found Carol with the two girls, I felt my heart rate increase. I had always been terrified of kids. It was a pretty irrational, stupid fear, but I was always concerned what to say. I already was pretty inept at talking with people my age that I didn't know well, so having conversations with those younger than me I was familiar with would be even worse.

The three were in a cell, and Carol was talking in hushed tones to both. Mika, the younger one, was crying, Carol's arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and Lizzie stood in front of them, staring blankly.

I knocked on the frame of the cell and they all looked toward me. I smiled weakly and offered a greeting.

"You can come in," Carol said wearily.

"Hey ladies," I muttered, stepping in. "I wanted to come and see if you both were alright after that."

Mika buried her face in Carol's shoulder in response. I felt like some sort of monster.

"Rick's checking to see how they got through both fences," I said to Carol. "That shouldn't have happened."

There was a moment of silence.

"I wanted to apologize for yelling at both of you, Lizzie especially," I apologized. "That wasn't right of me. I was angry, I was upset, and I said some things I didn't mean in the heat of the moment."

Carol looked at me, surprised.

"I understand that you were both very scared yourselves. Me shouting didn't help you feel any better."

Mika looked up at me, her little round face red from crying. She sniffled, "It's okay."

Lizzie turned her head from me, and I sighed.

Carol moved away from Mika, standing from the bunk and lifting Lizzie's chin so she looked her in the eyes. "Lizzie," said Carol. "As much as you don't want to admit it, Vivien was right. Walkers are dangerous. They aren't you friends. They don't have names."

"But he was listening." she murmured, "He was playing with us and he was coming towards us. He wasn't being mean."

"Don't you understand, Elizabeth?" Carol leaned down. "He is a mindless killer. And if you don't learn to defend yourself, or run away, he will kill you. You can't keep thinking like they're people. You have to grow up now. You have to be strong."

Lizzie shook her head, pushing away from Carol. Tears filled her eyes. "You don't understand." she began to walk out of me past the cell, but I saw something change in Carol's face, and she grabbed the young girls arm.

"Yes, Lizzie. I do understand." Carol's voice was authoritative but calm. "I had a daughter. Her name was Sophia. She was about your age. She was separated from our group. We spent weeks looking for her in the woods, but we couldn't find her." Carol looked up into the mirror over the small sink in the cell and swallowed. "But eventually we did." her voice broke. "She had gotten bit. She turned. She wasn't my baby girl anymore. She was just like all the others who'd been lost to the disease. I had to watch Rick put her down. It was my worst nightmare, watching her fall to the ground. But it had to be done."

Carol straightened up, all traces of sadness gone from her face, returning to her serious state as she stared at Lizzie. Her eyes flickered up to mine, and I felt myself shaking my head slightly. Carol stared back down at Lizzie. I bit hard on the inside of my cheek, looking at the cement floor.

"I'm sorry," Lizzie said quietly.

"She's in a better place now," said Carol. "But Elizabeth, you need to be strong. You can't hide from the facts anymore. Do you understand?"

Lizzie nodded, a piece of hair falling from her ponytail. Carol pushed it back behind her ear and smiled weakly.

"Good girl." she dropped her hands from the young girl's face. "Now, take your sister and go get something to eat, alright?"

Lizzie nodded and offered her hand to Mika, who rose from the bed and exited the cell. Before they left, the eldest sister paused and looked at me.

"It's okay that you yelled at us," her voice was soft and quiet. I nodded and gave her a small smile in response, moving to follow them out when suddenly Carol called me back.

I turned to her. "Yes?"

"You didn't have to apologize. You were right. Lizzie needs to learn."

I shook my head. "It wasn't my place. I wasn't in my right mind. You did much better, anyhow."

Carol softly smiled, "When you have a child of your own, you get a lot of practice."

"I'm sure," I paused. "I didn't know you had a daughter. I'm sorry to hear you lost her."

Carol shrugged. "Like I said, she's in a better place."

Eyeing the backpack on my shoulder, Carol opened her mouth. "Are you still planning on leaving?"

"I'm not staying here for long," I said. "But, I guess another week or so can't hurt."

Carol smiled, "Well, we're glad to have you."

Nodding, I began to leave the cell.

"Can I ask a favor, Vivien?"

"Anything," I turned around.

"I have to cook dinner tonight for everyone. By the time I clean up it'll be pretty late. Because of what happened today, with the girls, can you make sure they get to bed alright?"

"Of course," I said.

"I don't think Lizzie is afraid. To be honest, I don't know what she is. But Mika misses her father, and since Lizzie isn't all there...she needs someone to watch after her like an older sister should. I try to do the best I can, but I have to help cook and clean and go to council meetings, I can't be there like I should-"

"I can help," I interjected. "I would be happy to help."

"I appreciate it," Carol grinned. "But I have to go find Daryl and Michonne. They're leaving on a run and I'd like to see them off."

Smiling, I watched her as she left the cell, and I decided to walk back to mine. I put my backpack underneath the bed, taking my knife back to its place on my belt.

I wasn't necessarily looking forward to the job of helping foster two young girls, but at least now I had a purpose for the time being.

Strolling out of the cell block, I paused after I passed a shut door. I had seen people enter this area before, so it was probably cleared of danger. I decided to take a look, pushing the door open. The hallway was dim, only lit by the little sunlight that escaped through a small window at the opposite end of the hallway. Storage closets. I peeked inside each one, there were about five, but found nothing exciting. It didn't even look like much was stored here, perhaps because they had formed their own storage areas at the prison.

The last door on the left put me face to face with a small maintenance ladder, leading up into who-knows-where. I shrugged to myself, climbing up. It wasn't the best decision, I could get myself into trouble, but at the moment, I had nothing else to do but pass the time.

The tunnel surrounding the ladder had a million spiderwebs, which was rather terrifying, but I pretended they weren't there and continued moving up.

At the top was a heavy trap door. I wasn't about to hop right into an area that may have not been cleared, but I slowly lifted the hefty steel trap and was pleased to see sunlight streaming through the small crack I had managed too make.

There was a small chance of walkers being on the roof. Using all my weight, I pushed up on the door and let it fall back.

As I suspected, it was the roof. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the harsh sun before I climbed out.

The roof was black, covered in air conditioning units and other service entrances like the one I'd just climbed out of. No walkers appeared to be up here, which was nice.

Standing up, I moved toward the edge of the building, where I could see the prison yard, the pavillion, the farm, and the woods beyond that. I saw the clumps of walkers that a small amount of people were taking out with crowbars. Daryl's motorcycle roared loudly as he drove to exit the prison, Michonne followed close behind in a car. A motorcycle may have been the most impractical choice of transportation, but Daryl didn't seem to care at all. The gates opened quickly so they could pass through, then closed again.

This was incredible. I wondered if anyone else knew about this. It was a good lookout spot...if we were looking for anyone who was trying to get it, but that probably didn't apply. Looking directly below me, I could see Lizzie and Mika playing hopscotch after their lunch. I smiled at this, thinking of my older brother, when we used to play together.

Carol could've been wrong. Lizzie maybe was a better sister than she thought.

For another twenty minutes, I stood on my perch, undetected, listening to a breeze in the trees and the unfortunate groans of the corpses that gathered at the fences. No matter where you went, that sound never seemed to go away.

* * *

That evening, I went to find Lizzie and Mika to put them to bed. It was getting dark out, and after dark nobody was supposed to be outside, unless they were on watch or patrolling the gates. The two were playing a board game in the open area outside of their cell.

"Hello ladies," I smiled at them both, trying to act as natural and non-threatening as possible. They both looked up at me, and Mika gave me a little smile in return.

"What are you playing?" I asked them both.

"Scrabble," said Mika. "Do you want to play with us?"

"Well, I don't want to disrupt the game you're in now."

"It's okay! We just started." She cleared the board, and a few letters fell to the floor. I bent down to pick them up.

"Sit down," Mika instructed, and I obeyed. Lizzie made room beside her on the small bench she sat on.

We played for a while in silence, until the two girls began arguing over whether a word was spelled right. I helped them solve the quarrel and we continued to play. After awhile, I zoned out, not really paying attention. Mika's shrill voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Look! I spelled the word 'Witch', Vivien!"

I looked down at the board, chuckling to myself as I saw "Whitch" spelled out, stemming from my addition of 'What'. I didn't bother correcting her misspelling.

"Good job, Mika. Nice creativity."

Lizzie smiled at me too from behind her hand.

After the game was over, Lizzie spoke. "We should go to sleep Mika,"

"No, I don't want to," Mika frowned. "Where's Carol?"

"She can't tuck you girls in tonight, so she asked me to," I offered, hoping this wouldn't be too horrible of news to them.

Lizzie coughed and scratched at her throat. "That's fine."

I nodded and followed them as they moved into their cell and changed into more comfortable clothes. Lizzie climbed into her bunk up top, but Mika sat in a chair that I assumed had been set up for Carol to sit in. She swung her legs and stared at the concrete.

"Mika, go on and get into bed now," I said.

"No, I don't want to go to sleep tonight."

I frowned. "Why not?"

She shook her head and murmured something quietly that I couldn't make out.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." She continued to swing her legs and stare at the ground.

"She's just afraid," Lizzie offered from her perch in her bunk. I looked up, then back down to Mika.

"Mika, is this true?"

She shook her head quickly.

"Are you sure?" I bent down to her level, tickling her under the chin so she looked up at me. Her big blue eyes were watery.

"Are you alright, Mika?"

"I'm just not tired."

"Well, why don't you lay down for a bit and see?"

"I don't want to. What if Nick comes in? Or Patrick?"

I exhaled, moving to sit on her bunk and holding an arm out to her. "Ooooooh. I see what's wrong."

"Told ya she was scared," Lizzie spoke up from above me.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Ladies, please. It's okay if you're scared after today, Mika." I told her as she sat down beside me. "Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?"

She nodded, climbing under the covers. This whole 'interacting with kids' thing wasn't too bad after all. I moved back to the chair across from their bunk. Mika settled under the covers and was silent for a long moment.

"Can you sing me a song?"

"You want me to sing to you?"

"Yes, Carol does when I ask."

It seemed strange that a ten year old wanted a lullaby, but I didn't object.

"I can't sing very well."

"It's okay, neither does Carol."

I chuckled at this, then racked my brain for a song to sing. I didn't remember my parents ever singing me lullabies at night. I didn't even remember wanting them to sing me lullabies. Without many options, I began to sing a song from a musical I couldn't recall, but I had heard many times growing up, and I had always liked.

After singing, Mika rolled over to me.

"You have a pretty voice."

I blushed slightly. I loved singing. From a young age, my mother had forced me into all kinds of musical lessons, piano, voice, guitar, violin. I would've enjoyed it if she wasn't so competitive about it, but unfortunately, in my family, nothing was done as a leisure activity. You had to be the very best. It'd been ages since I had sung for anyone but my showerhead, or Tripp, if he had asked me to. I kind of forgot it had been a hobby of mine. But having any sort of talent in the arts was useless now, I figured.

After I was sure both girls were asleep, I tiptoed out of the cell and padded down the hallway to find Carol and let her know they were both in bed.

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**Sorry it ended rather abruptly. As always, please review these chapters. It means so much, and I always like to hear your thoughts!**


	9. Quarantine

About one week later, everything had gone to shit at the prison. It wasn't the nicest way of putting things, but unfortunately, residents weren't in the nicest situation. They had quarantined the majority of the children, including Rick's son and daughter, as well as Hershel Greene and his younger daughter, Beth.

Block A had been set up as the 'hospital', which was disgustingly ironic, seeing as Block A was usually Death Row. A good part of me hoped that most of the residents, the ill especially, were unaware of this morbid tidbit. Regardless, it didn't make much of a difference. Though not many had died yet, the growing number of infected grew each day. Even Dr.S, the physician who was in charge in Block A, had fallen ill.

This information had been gathered from either Rick or Carol, or whoever I saw walking around. They were the only ones, besides Daryl, who got close enough to Block A who could exchange information. Daryl still regarded me with contempt when I saw him, squinting his icy blue my way for a brief moment before returning to whatever it was he was doing. Never had I seen him not on some sort of mission.

I had had a few conversations with Hershel while bringing food into quarantine, through the cloudy glass pane in a doorway. I updated him on what was going on, and he usually told me how boring things were in his department. I couldn't blame him, he was in there with mostly children and a few adults. He hadn't taken the news of Dr.S being ill very well. Immediately he asked me if I could get Rick for him, and I knew it was because he wanted to help, but I doubted they'd let him. I had asked Rick and Carol as well, with no such luck. Apparently an infected Dr.S could hold down the 'hospital' himself.

Since most people were either sick, or in quarantine, I regarded the lucky few, myself included, as being in Limbo. Carol had deemed me healthy, but she had expressed her concerns with me being new, and having just been sick a few weeks earlier, and asked me if I could stay out of quarantine. I wasn't about to object. Lizzie and Mika were in Limbo as well, but I rarely saw them, and Carol didn't ask for my help with them either.

At the end of the week, Glenn had gotten sick. I wasn't too close with Glenn, but we had carried a few brief conversations in my stay here. Maggie, his wife, was devastated, and when I told Hershel the news he had practically lost it.

"I can't stay in here any longer. I've got to get in there," his voice was in it's usual gruff, concerned state, "I shouldn't be in here anyhow." He began rattling the doorknob of the barrier we spoke through, and I held him back. Since quarantine was in the office area of the prison, it had a bit more of a comfortable air to it. The feng shui was a bit more on point than cold cells.

"Hershel, I can't let you go out there," pushing against the door. Even though he was an older man, his strength surprised me. "If something happens to Dr.S there won't be anyone left to take care of the residents here."

"Ain't you a doctor yourself?" I felt the pressure on the door decrease, he had given up easily.

I sighed, "Not technically. I'm not board certified. I never did my residency."

I heard him release a frustrated groan, "I'm a veterinarian. You're probably more qualified than I am." The doorknob rattled again.

"Fine," I stepped away from the door, and she opened it up, walking through and facing me.

"I can't keep you in there. But you can't make decisions on a this way. You're a valuable member of this group. You have two daughters. If something happens to you….If someone's going to go in there to help Dr.S, let it be me," My words were quick, perhaps biting, but I wouldn't allow him to do something rash because he was panicked. Pausing, I laughed, bitterly, "I have nothing to lose."

"Don't talk that way. Everyone here is just as important as I am. That's why I have to go in."

Sighing, I shrugged, "I can't stop you."

He sighed, scratching his white beard. "We need medicine. I can go out into the woods to look for some elderberries."

"Fever reducer," I said absentmindedly, and Hershel's head shot up in question.

"Read it in a textbook somewhere," I answered, staring at the ground and biting my lower lip. "You can't go out there alone."

"I'll be fine, don't worry. What we really need is a run for medicine. Anything could help. Raid houses, pharmacies, I don't care," he shook his head. "Rick said he was coming in to talk to me later this evening. We can get something arranged to leave tomorrow morning."

Nodding, I bit my lip again. "I haven't had much time to analyze the virus, but they'll need fever reducers, clean syringes, and fluids. The symptoms are so nonspecific. It's a shame it's not a bacteria infection."

"If only it were that easy," Hershel gave a pathetic chuckle.

I glanced up at him. "I'm sure Rick will be by soon. I have to leave."

"Go on," He said, stepping back through the threshold of the door.

Smiling, I retreated too, watching as he closed the door quietly, "Don't do anything rash," I chided as the doorknob clicked into place with finality.

Whether or not he heard me, I stared at the door for a moment before turning around, and walking back to where the pavillion was. On my way there, I ran into Rick, who stopped me in my tracks.

"Is everything alright in there, Vivien?" He asked me.

"Everything's fine," I assured him, glancing at him. In the roughly two weeks or so I had known him, he had seemed to age five years. He hadn't shaved in awhile, so his cheeks were covered in what was too long to be considered stubble, but too short to be a considered a bear. His hair was pushed back from his face, and his eyes held all kinds of anguish. Although I wanted to comfort him, there wasn't much I could say to make him feel better.

I'd heard about his wife's death from other residents, and I knew this illness could be a breaking point. He had to resume his leadership alongside the rest of the council after spending a few months under the radar, farming and taking care of smaller projects at the prison. The original group here, from what I'd heard, had worked hard to maintain a relatively safe place that had been demolished by this outbreak. Plus, with the ever-growing clumps of 'walkers' that gripped the fences, pushing the security limits, the possibility of being overrun loomed on the horizon. The prison had been designed to keep people inside, not to keep things from getting in.

"I told Hershel about Glenn," I told Rick, letting him know what he was about to walk into. "He deserved to know."

I didn't know Rick well enough to read him, but when he slowly nodded, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"I just thought I'd let you know. He wants to go in."

"I know he does," Rick shook his head. "But he can't right now. I don't want to put that on him. He doesn't understand what it's like in there."

I shrugged. "Well you should talk to him, then. He says we'll need medicine. He wants a run to go out."

"If we can get him to wait for the run to come back that may not be half bad of an idea. We can't sit around and let this outbreak happen. Anything would be helpful," Rick agreed, nodding again, putting his hands on his hips.

I agreed, shifting my weight from foot to foot awkwardly. Beyond the conversation I had just shared with Hershel, I had nothing to talk to Rick about.

"Well, I better go talk to him before he takes any action," he said definitively, looking over my shoulder towards the offices.

"I'm not stopping you," I walked past him and looked over my shoulder, "I'm going back to my cell if you need anything."

Rick thanked me and walked off, as did I in the opposite direction.

When I got back to my cell, after climbing the stairs to the second level where I stayed, I collapsed on the bed. I was rather tired. I didn't sleep much at night, I was slightly scared that someone would come down with this flu and turn overnight, then attack the cell block in the manner that had happened before I got here. I tossed and turned and worried about Tripp, wondering if he was looking for me anymore, but deep down I think I the answer. _He had given up. _

Sometimes, I thought about my parents, but doubted their survival. Being in any major city during the outbreak made your odds unfavorable at best. My brother hadn't been in the city the last I had talked to him, but I didn't know if he had the capabilities to survive this long. Then again, I didn't exactly have any capabilities to survive, but I did by some miracle. All in all, sleep eluded me most of the time, and I focused on the moonlight that streamed through the windows, illuminating different areas of the cell block like a spotlight, letting my mind wander.

In my cell, I got out my pen and the tattered composition notebook I'd kept for this long. On the first page, I kept a tally of the days since the outbreak. On the second page, began journal entries, each dated, each one short and sweet. I logged the death of other members, the places we traveled, but left out details, the ones I didn't want any to read. Those I logged inside my head, storing them alongside countless physics equations and diagrams of the human brain.

My most recent entries only dealt with my time here at the prison, descriptions of people whose names I didn't want to forget, the virus, it's symptoms and it's possible cures.

After I wrote down a few medicines that might be helpful, including elderberries, I put the journal away and leaned back, closing my eyes. It was about 5:00PM.

I heard someone walking through the cell block and sat up, tiptoeing to see who it was. I opened the shower curtain used for privacy quietly, pulling it back.

I jumped about three feet back when I saw Daryl on the other side, only a few feet from me.

"What the hell are ya doing?" He scowled as he yanked the curtain out of the way, stepping forward.

"Nothing!" I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "I heard something and wanted to see who it was."

"Well, it's me," he informed me, flatly.

"Yes, I can see that now," I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I knew I had failed.

He gave me a look for awhile, his pale, icy blue eyes expressionless. I refused to break eye contact.

"Listen," he began, "Rick and I were just talkin'..." he gritted his teeth, "Hershel wants a run to go out."

"And?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe of my cell.

"Rick wants me ta bring ya along, to get medicine," he said finally, crossing his arms. "We're leavin' tomorrow morning. He wanted me ta let ya know. Ya plannin' on comin' along?"

Oh boy, a run with my favorite man ever, Daryl Dixon. It sure sounded like an exquisite time! But if it was for the people here...I knew it was my job to go.

I nodded. "Sounds fine. Thanks for letting me know, Daryl."

He grunted in response, turning on his heel without any farewell.

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**Alright, so here's another chapter. Let me know what you think, please! Tell me how well I write each character, because some of them are tricky! And tell me what you think of Vivien as well, I'm trying to get a good backstory going on for her!**


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